All about that SpencerRemy life (drabbles)
by NerdCat-Aydsa
Summary: Some short and occasional long stories that my mind keeps coming up with featuring our favourite cinnamon roll couple, Spencer/Remy! *\(ˇωˇ )/**
1. Let me hear your silence (pt 1)

**Story: ** Let me hear your silence (pt.1)

 **SUMMARY:**

Remy Le Beau escaped from Dr Sinister's labs 3 years ago, but why can't he forget the beautiful golden eyes of the grieving boy he saw before his planned escape? He couldn't help but feel like he left his mind behind. Left it behind with the boy with the skeleton body, lanky chestnut hair, and haunting eyes.

* * *

 **Prologue**

On the night of his tenth birthday, his life changed. Spencer Reid had been living with his mother, Diana Reid, struggling to help her mind from deteriorating any further when his father left them with no goodbyes except for a hastily scrawled note that said,

 _I'm sorry_

After watching his mother break down in uncontrollable tears, he sat there and watched numbly as she slowly lost her mind to the voices in her head. Days passed before his mother was coherent enough to finally acknowledge him, but by then the stress of everything had already crashed down on Spencer's little shoulders, rendering his mind in to a constant mess of anxiety.

Everything tasted like ashes, the world around him lost all its color and everyday was a desperate juggle between home life and school life, and he did everything he could to keep their lives from crumbling but in the end it was not enough to keep _them_ away...keep the police and Social services away...

They tore into his house like a force of nature and upended their lives again for the second time. Eleven year old Spencer could do nothing but watch helplessly as Social services were called in to whisk them away. He still remembers the looming building they were brought to, and the smell of freshly painted walls and dust lingering in the air of the room they were placed in.

How could he forget that life-changing day?

How could he forget the last day he saw his mother? The last day he saw her beautiful smile, sparkling blue eyes and _warm, warm_ hands that embraced him in _safe and gentle hugs_. It was the last day he saw her coherent. Coherent enough to struggle and fight against the five guards pinning her on to the ground, coherent enough to recognize that they were going to take her child away from her forever and aware enough to scream for him to _"Run Spence! RUN!"_

But his young mind was paralyzed in fear, he could not leave the only person he had in the world here...in this _horrible_ place! His body froze in paralyzing terror and he did not even flinch when he felt his mother's presence brush against his mind. It was the first time he felt the whisper of his mother's loving touch against his mind, and the last time he felt it.

Before he knew what happened, he heard a loud **_bang_** and the sound of something heavy hit the ground with a thud. Dazedly, his eyes automatically seeked out the origin of the noise and he found himself staring at his mother's lifeless, dull eyes. Spencer jerked back and violently hit the wall behind him but all he could feel was that lifeless gaze on his skin. Distantly, he heard a hysterical babble of whimpers and sobs, and he did not realize it was him until something black blocked his vision. At first he thought this must be what death feels like, pain that feels like his chest was being ripped in half and his mind being cruelly stabbed, but the black blob crouched down and his swimming, shaky vision met a face. The dawning realization that he was still alive struck him hard, sending wracking shivers through his lithe frame.

A strong, smiling face- pale like a vampire's with red flecked eyes, cascading dark locks and a sharp, angular jawline -inched closer to his until there were only a few inches between them. A hand reached out towards him, and he felt like he was being burned from the inside out by the wave of sadistic glee and anger that assaulted his mind when the stranger's hand covered his mouth in a parody of comfort.

"It's nice to meet you, Spencer." The hand covering his mouth vanished before two thick arms circled his back and trapped him against a broad chest.

A deep whisper mockingly caressed the shell of his ear, "My name is Nathaniel Essex, but you can call me 'Doctor'."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_**

 _I want to dedicate this story to the amazing SpencerRemylvr. You have written so many stories for us and your stories have taught me how to improve my writing and gave me ingenious worlds and plots for my imagination to escape to. So this story is a thank you for all your invaluable contributions!_

 _Hope everybody enjoys it! :-)_


	2. Let me hear your silence (pt 2)

**_A/N:_**

 _Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for the sporadic updates but I have not neglected this story, dear readers!_

 _Hope you enjoy,_

 _Aydsa_

* * *

 **Story:** Let me hear your silence (pt.2)

 **Chapter 1**

Spencer doesn't remember how long he has been in this room for. It could have been days or it could have been weeks. All he remembers are long, winding corridors and distant screams echoing against the walls, before being dragged kicking and screaming in hysterical terror into a large, spacious room.

...There was white _everywhere._

He could not remember ever seeing something so pure looking and yet so sterile and unforgiving on his sensitive eyes, but Spencer's young but intelligent mind scanned the room first, making sure it was safe and checking for any possible escape routes before he settled down to observe.

 _Realistically_ he knew that there was no way he could ever hope to escape from _this prison_ in such a short time. He needed to gather as much information as possible before even humoring the idea of attempting escape, so instead of panicking, he took a deep breath and started to analyze the room he was put in.

From his spot near the right corner of the room he could see the door, the small sink, and toilet located on the left corner of the room. Other than the essentials- the bed, toilet and sink -there was nothing else in the room. _Not even_ a window, a table or a chair.

Spencer felt a lump form in his throat when the thought that he might never escape entered his mind. He had no one left; his father had abandoned him, he had no friends to speak of, and his mother _was..._ **god** _...she was_ _**gone**_. There was no one who would come for him, no one left to care whether he's dead or alive.

But before his mind was sucked into despair, he heard a clink. The clink ended with a loud clang when the steel doors of his room opened, sending his mind into wary alertness. When he saw a man in military uniform carrying a tray, he relaxed slightly but did not dare make a move until the tray was left in the middle of the room and the guard returned to his post outside.

Spencer sat there, _waiting...and waiting_.

He's not sure what he's supposed to be waiting for exactly, but his body was coiled so tightly it was hard to breathe, let alone move. Logically, he knew that he should eat the food because he's unsure when he would get the chance to eat again, but he couldn't even dredge up a tiny flame of hope. Instead, he felt numb like a part of his heart froze permanently when he witnessed his mother's death. His mind felt like a raw bleeding wound that would never heal, and he felt the stirrings of a panic attack pressing on the edges of his awareness when he looked down and saw the dried, flaking blood on his palms. Pitching forward, he gripped his shirt in desperation and screwed his eyes shut but he couldn't stop seem to stop hyperventilating and shivering in shock.

Behind his eyelids the only thing he could see was his mother's body hitting the ground over and over again. The moment when she realized what the men had come for, she had struggled against them to try and give Spencer a chance to get away. She...she died because she was trying to protect him, and the thought itself sent a wave of self-loathing and guilt through his chest.

She protected him even though he did not even realize that her symptoms of schizophrenia were caused by her inability to control her telepathy. His mom protected him even though he did not do anything to stop her suffering. He gasped in distress and reached a shaking arm to wipe away his tears, but the crimson stains on his sleeves made him flinch back violently. Frantically he looked away from his blood-stained body, trying to stop the nightmarish images pressing against his mind when his eyes landed on the bowl of porridge in the middle of the room. Spencer didn't even realize he was moving until he was crawling half-way there on his trembling knees and arms, and before he knew it he had the warm bowl of porridge in his hands.

Mechanically, he raised the bowl to his lips before downing the contents in a few gulps. The warmth of the food sat uncomfortably on his roiling stomach but he forced the rising feeling of bile down, before curling up on the bed.

As soon as he laid down, bone-deep exhaustion hit him and he felt himself involuntarily sinking into darkness.

* * *

Spencer startled awake when the door slammed open and men with guns and gas masks stormed in. He scrambled backwards and clutched the flimsy, coarse blanket to his chest to hide how his hands trembled in fear.

He was under no illusions about why he was taken _here_. _Mutant development facility_...he bitterly scoffed at irony of the name. These so-called _facilities_ were nothing more than concentration camps where mutants were sent in the disguise of being educated when, in reality, they were sent to be controlled and experimented on for the sake of quenching humanity's hunger for power, and it seems like he was the next subject in this vile crusade.

This thought cemented his resolve to survive. To survive and to honour his mother's sacrifice. He felt his fear abate, and his trembling body still in cold determination just before rough hands unceremoniously grabbed him and harshly pulled him along. Passing through the white hallways he saw cells with gleaming steel bars lining the walls and glass rooms with nothing in them except metal tables. The padding on the walls kept all the sounds muffled and the only thing that he could hear was the ominous thudding of boots against the gleaming, white linoleum floors. He felt his shoulders tense, but before he could start struggling, a door opened and he was roughly pushed in.

Spencer landed on his hands on knees but his head snapped up when he heard an exuberant exclaim, "Welcome to this Mutant development facility, Spencer. I hope you have been enjoying your stay so far."

The Doctor he met on _that day_ stood towering before him with a genial smile and an outstretched hand. However, the smile he wore froze Spencer completely. He felt his eleven year old heart beat jack-rabbit fast in cold terror, for some reason he could not explain, the amusement twinkling in those eyes and the small smile was nothing but dark and malicious to him. The Doctor -Nathaniel Essex, his mind supplied -must have seen the complete terror on his face, because the next thing he knew he was painfully hauled into a hard, unyielding chest.

He whimpered when a hand grabbed his chin in a bruising grip and he was forced to meet glittering-sharp eyes.

"I don't need to pretend. You see what I am already, _haven't you_?"

The bruising grip eased and his cheek was caressed in a facsimile gesture of comfort before he was yanked upwards by his hair. Spencer felt a finger trace down the tendons of his neck before a whisper was placed against his collarbone.

"Such a strong first presentation of empathy, _my little mouse._ It will be amusing to _break_ you and see what other abilities you have hiding inside _that beautiful mind_ …"

Those words struck a chord of absolute terror in him and he struggled with all the power his small body possessed. Spencer swung his fists and kicked out violently, clawing desperately to get away. He felt his fists strike flesh and was instantly dropped in an haphazard sprawl on the ground, but before he could scramble away, Spencer was hauled upwards by his hair and dragged towards the metal table in the middle of the room.

In his single-minded attempt to escape Spencer did not notice the guards rushing in until he felt multiple hands holding him down and heard the dreadful sound of buckles snapping shut. Futilely, he tugged against the leather straps of the metal table he was on, but his muscles spasmed with fatigue. All he could do was tug weakly against the straps digging into his ankles and wrists.

A wave of hopelessness and despair hit him and he screwed his eyes shut when he felt hot, salty tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes snapped open and he flinched when he felt the Doctor lean in to whisper against his ear,

"You are a feisty one, dear Spencer… _but you will regret ever defying me like that_."

An involuntary whimper escaped his lips at the ice-cold fury in those words. The next few hours were going to be hell; he was proven right when the Doctor pressed a scalpel against his sternum.

"Let's see how much pain you can take before your survival instincts forces your dormant abilities awake."

That was the last thing he remembered before agonizing pain assaulted his senses and all he could do was scream as the blade dug deeper and deeper. Distantly, he could feel the slick feeling of blood smearing against the metal surface, the cold feeling of the blade against his flesh and the straps digging into his skin. The pain was so excruciating it felt like someone was pouring acid on his nerves and after what seemed like forever the pain _finally, blessedly_ stopped.

Every heaving, sobbing breath sent fire racing through his chest and every twitch made his body feel like it had been run over by a truck; Blinking his dull tear-filled eyes open, Spencer blearily managed to make out the Doctor's looming figure above him.

A sudden agonizing pang of pain yanked his attention down to his mangled chest, and there, sticking out of his chest was the scalpel. Numbly his mind registered that all the skin and flesh around the scalpel was healed. All that was left of the gaping wound was newly-healed, pink and puckered scar tissue.

The edges of his vision started to gray out in distress and Spencer _mercifully_ blacked out before the scalpel was completely yanked out of his newly healed wound.

* * *

Spencer lost count of the time he spent in this _damn_ facility. The hours bled into days then months, and before he knew it he had been trapped in the same place _for years._ Whenever he was on the verge of attempting to escape the guards would automatically come and drag him to another one of the Doctor's sessions, and when the session ended his body would be too weak and in too much pain to move.

At the beginning of his stay, Spencer fervently held onto the hope that he would escape but that flare of hope withered and died when he realized that he couldn't even control the only choice he had left. The choice to decide his own death.

The first and last time he tried to kill himself was when he was twelve years old and a year into his imprisonment in the facility. Spencer had managed to pry a long thin piece of rusted metal from the sink, but instead of using it as a weapon, he found himself staring numbly at the piece of metal before plunging it into his neck.

When he woke up to white walls and the feel of cold metal seeping through a thin mattress, he knew that he had _nothing_. Not even the right to control his body. The other scientists and Doctor Essex would never let him go, and despair washed over his young mind. From then on, Spencer knew that it was futile, that it was useless to wish for escape. The only thing he had to live for was his ability to heal. To heal himself, but most importantly, to heal others. The only time he felt truly alive, that he felt truly worthwhile were times where he was allowed to heal the wounds of the other mutants there, ease their sufferings and provide some comfort to the dying.

That was all Spencer had to live for until he met someone... _Someone who completely changed his world._


	3. Let me hear your silence (pt 3)

**A/N:**

 _I'm so sorry for the late update everybody :(_

 _I started this story with the intention of keeping it a short one shot (around 5,000 words) but my muse kidnapped the idea and ran away with it, so my plan for the original plot was completely annihilated. I had to start from scratch and rewrite the whole plot/storyline when my muse decided to desert me._

 _I struggled with the story idea and I had no idea what my end-game will be, but I am throwing in the towel and saying fuck it. I wrote the next 5,000-6,000 words already but I was not able to see the direction of my story so I didn't post it until AZCatmom asked me about future updates. From then on, I decided to just go with it and post slowly even though I have no idea where the storyline will go._

 _This chapter is for all you amazing cookies, who have stuck with me and haven't given up on this story. PS thanks AZCatmom for kicking my conflicted muse in the face ;)_

 _Love y'all,_

 _Aydsa_

* * *

 **Story:** Let me hear your silence (pt.3)

 **Chapter 2**

The door closed with a soft snick and the sound reverberated in the small confines of his room. Spencer sat on the bed slumped against the wall. He nearly doubled over in agony when a small movement caused the healing wounds on his back to reopen.

Doctor Sinister seemed even angrier than normal, and when Spencer left his session today he was barely coherent. Without his enhanced healing abilities, he knew that he would not have made it past half of the session. The murderous anger the Doctor displayed was so out of character that Spencer was terrified of the possibility that the Doctor would vent his anger on the other mutants there, on the mutants who were too young and so weak from pain they could not defend themselves.

Spencer knew that every reaction would not be taken lightly so he kept absolutely silent, biting his lips so hard he tasted blood on his tongue for hours afterwards.

 _Something_ must have happened to have triggered such rage in the Doctor...but the grating, clanging sounds of the lock being opened brought Spencer out of his morose thoughts and he gingerly sat up and shuffled towards the edge of the bed, trying to appear as strong and steady as possible.

Two guards entered carrying a tray of food, and the tension seeped out of his frame at the familiar sight but at the approaching sounds of a struggle, his body went stiff with tension.

A man with chestnut hair, strong jawline and tall, lean frame was dragged in. The man snarled and fought like a raving animal with strikes as powerful and precise as a bullet. When Spencer's hazel brown eyes met the man's, he was struck by the deep burning red of his pupils. Those eyes should have scared him but instead of reminding Spencer of the Doctor's dead-cold eyes, it made him think of a bright, burning flame.

Spencer stared at the sight the man made in amazement because not only did he manage to take out two of the guards, he was simultaneously egging them on.

"That all y' can do, _homme_?! Ain't nothin' Gambit enjoys more dan taking out _connards_ like y'!"

The stranger must have wanted to incite a violent response because before anyone else could react, one of the guards flicked open a baton and and thrusted it into the stranger's stomach. There was a crackle of electricity in the air before the stranger's body convulsed and stilled.

"Che...pathetic piece of shit…" The guard (-Hanson- his mind supplied) spat at the downed mutant before he leveled a glare at Spencer.

Spencer averted his eyes, hunched his shoulders and made himself look smaller and weaker. _More_ _submissive_. The tactics he learned worked well and he knew how to make them think he was broken. Make them think that they broke him, when, in reality, a flicker of defiance and tenacity blazed deep inside his mind.

Seconds passed and the crawling gaze left him, but he kept his eyes on his knobbly knees until he heard the door slam close. As soon as the door closed, Spencer sagged and gave in to the urge to wrap his arms around his stomach. All his wounds have long since healed but the lingering phantom pain made his skin feel raw.

Suddenly, there was a tiny inhale and in the silence of the room it sounded like the crack of thunder. Spencer eyed the mutant on the ground with wariness, and he shuffled back until his back met the cold wall. From his position, Spencer watched as the mutant pushed himself up and ran fingers through his hair before palming his face.

" _Merde._ Dat stung." The man in front of him hissed, before continuing to mumble at himself.

"De _connards_ 'ere are smart, dey keep all the keys outside 'fore dey enter." As the stranger ran his hands over his eyes and through his hair, Spencer could see tiny violet sparks dance on the air around him.

Spencer's eyes widened at the realization that the man must have faked his collapse. There was a sly, cunningness in every move the stranger made, and Spencer couldn't help the tiny sliver of _fear-awe-respect_ that blossomed in his chest. However, he wasn't able to avert his eyes fast enough before the man caught Spencer's eyes and flashed him a dazzling wink.

Spencer could feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but he fisted the thin, threadbare blanket beneath him as he willed himself not to react. The too-wide smirk on the man's face dimmed in the face of Spencer's silence but he still staggered up and gave Spencer a warm smile.

"Bonjour, cher. Name's Remy LeBeau. What's a beau chéri like y' doin' in a place like dis?"

The man, Remy -his mind whispered- must have been an excellent emotional manipulator because that low, drawling voice was just the right pitch to make his knees turn to jelly. Spencer had never heard anyone's voice sound that soothing...tha-that _safe_ in a long time.

It made Spencer feel like he was rolling in sunlight on the warm, white sands of the oceans and his chest tightened. The last time Spencer had felt this warm was when he was in his mother's arms before she was murdered.

The choking, constricting feeling around his throat and the prickling sensation of tears in the corners of his eyes threatened to spill so, in desperation, he wrestled his walls down and swallowed his yearning. Without acknowledging his new room-mate, Spencer shuffled back until he was practically hugging the wall and kept his head down until his long, shaggy hair hid him from the world. From his spot huddled against the wall, Spencer heard Remy sigh before he took a seat on the floor against the sink. Spencer closed his eyes when the drowsiness made the edges of his vision fuzzy and felt his mind slowly sink into much-needed sleep, but before Spencer dropped off his empathy registered the new presence as _safe_.


End file.
